Empty Rooms
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. He's not as hard on her as she tries to be on him.


Title: Empty Rooms  
Summary: He's not as hard on her as she tries to be on him.  
Characters: Ronon, Teyla, John  
Pairing: John/Teyla, slight Teyla/Kanan  
Rating: K  
Spoilers: Post Kindred

Notes: This is dedicated to Camy because, like Ronon, she knows them.

He's not as hard on her as she tries to be on him. He can see it in the way he deflects her erratic shots but never retaliates; he can see it in the way he simply steps to the side before turning slowly to meet her staves; he can see it in the way his eyes never leave her face while he's facing her, and how quickly he turns back to her once he's spun away.

Ronon knows Sheppard is waiting for something, but he can't quite figure out what.

It's not the first time he's stumbled upon them sparring - nor will it be the last he's sure – but there's something about watching this slow, rhythmic dance that seems almost intrusive now. He wants to leave but his feet won't let him. He watches the slow arc of her stave as it clashes with his with a soft clack before she spins and tries to attack on his left. Ronon knows she could easily kick Sheppard's ass but right now that seems impossible.

He's sparred with her and never has he seen her so out of position, so out of touch with her opponent. He's seen her with Sheppard too and though their sparring sessions are telling there's something about this one that's intimate, quiet, something that's not about winning but about being, and knowing, and caring.

And Ronon is fixated.

He's known for some time the complexities that confine him and her. He's not blind, nor is he stupid. He's seen the way he's there for her, the way he searches for her, the way he'd die for her. He's seen the way she needs him, the way she finds him, the way she lives for him.

He knows this is what they do. He knows that when there's been a close call he's likely to find them down here at this time doing this and he wonders if maybe he meant to find them, to know that there was something still real, still tangible, still unchangeable after everything that's happened. He knows that they come here to fight, to beat out their emotions on one another in a way that is okay, that's allowed by the rules they've set upon themselves. Ronon knows Sheppard can think of other ways to expend his energy but he also knows Sheppard, and he wouldn't do that. He knows that in their gym, there are emotions so deep, so channelled that as soon as he tried to step in, he'd be suffocated.

He doesn't know how they manage.

Sheppard goes easy on her as she launches blow after blow after blow and Ronon wonders if maybe this time Sheppard's got it wrong. He wonders if maybe Teyla needs someone to fight back. He knows that this time has been closer than the others. He knows that this time too much has been lost. He can see the scar across her flat, empty stomach and he knows how much she must be hurting. He can see the chord chain Kanan had given to her wrapped around her wrist. He knows he can relate to that; he has his own scars, his own chords tattooed across his body.

He watches as he side steps and she stumbles past him. He can feel it, can almost taste the shift in the room and he knows that he should leave. She doesn't turn to parry his now stilled staves and Ronon can see the change in Sheppard's face. It's subtle and it's underplayed but Ronon's seen it all before and he's neither stupid, nor blind.

His own breath feels like an obtrusive gale in the room and he wants to leave.

He sees her shoulders slump, can hear her laboured breathing alter and he knows it won't be long now. He hasn't seen this before yet he knows what's going to happen. He neither should be here, nor wants to be but something has kept him, sprung roots from his feet and he's mesmerised. He hears the staves drop though he's not sure whether either of them has. He sees his slow, steady step towards her and he knows that she has felt his hand touch her before he's even thought of it.

He knows that this is something that they do, too, he's just never seen it.

The touch isn't what he expected and he's almost disappointed in the evanescent brush of his fingers on her neck, the gentle whisper against her spine. The moments pass and Ronon wonders if something is wrong, if something between them is unfixable, and for an instant, he's almost scared. With so much change, he needs their consistency. He needs to know his knowledge in them is unwavering, unchangeable.

It's almost slow motion when it happens and he can feel a bitter lump rise in the back of his throat as she turns to him, the tears of pain and loss and despair pooling in her eyes. He knows that pain – he's felt that pain. He knows that Sheppard knows it too, if only through her. His fingers follow her body's fluid movement, tracing around her collarbone, resting against her neck, almost framing. Then it's in her hair, guiding her to him, though not demanding. He's giving her the opportunity to pull away. Ronon knows that she won't.

It's when she's in his arms and he can hear her sobs that he knows there are constants in the universe. It's when Sheppard tucks his chin in her hair and she's wrapped her arms about his waist that Ronon knows this is something intimate, meant only for them and that he's not welcome here.

And as he leaves, knowing what he knows, he almost wishes that he'd stumbled upon an empty room.


End file.
